


The Garden

by Alexandra926



Series: State Dinner [4]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Aliens!, F/M, Snark, bad language!, strongly diverges from canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandra926/pseuds/Alexandra926
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - It's been six months.  Maybe Mark's ready for a different sort of adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hindsight is 20/20

Poor vision was not one of the known consequences of space travel, as far as Mark Watney knew, but it couldn't be denied that his eyesight had gotten considerably worse. It had been over six months since that cold morning in Houston, and life was a lot different now. Some things always remained the same, however, and when he'd failed his vision screening at his recent driver's license renewal, he had been forced to confront the fact that there was something wrong.

He hadn't really noticed any issues while driving; he thought his distance vision was about the same. But if he really thought back on it, this vision problem wasn't anything new. He'd needed to push his laptop back further than he was used to, back in the Hab. Even on Hermes, he could remember squinting and holding his tablet further away from his eyes than was normal for him, to bring things into focus. He'd attributed that to the weirdness of space travel, the way even the slightest bit of moisture in your eyes messed with your vision in low gravity.

But there was obviously more to it than that. His vision had deteriorated a shocking amount, now that he thought about it. It was more than a little bit scary to contemplate the future, if something couldn't be done. What if he lost his vision entirely? His heart started pounding, as a rare panic attack threatened; suddenly, he was right on the verge of losing control, as he gripped his hands tightly together. His breathing was fast and shallow, as his field of vision narrowed and the edges became frayed. How would he live without his eyesight? Never see the faces of the people he loved? It would be like getting left behind, all over again.

 _Relax_. He forced himself to take ten deep breaths. One.

Don't think about it right now. _Alone. Forever_.

His clenched hands were shaking a bit, now. Not good.

Deep breaths. Two. Relax, he told himself. They have science for shit like this. I'm not going to go blind. Another deep breath. _Relax_. Three.

Minutes went by, as the panic attack subsided. He forced his hands to relax their grip.

He usually did not use the small, round computer that Oaiea had given him, when he was in public, but right now he needed the distraction. Anyway, there was no one here, in the optometrist's exam room, where he awaited his results. He circled through menus, re-reading his recent communication log with his friend. It calmed him down. There was a list of word associations he could work on. Some pictures that Oaiea had taken, stills from the TV shows she was watching; explaining the finer points of Game of Thrones might have to wait until he could think straight again.

Finally. There was the doctor. Sophia had recommended her. Dr. Nguyen had a nice, friendly businesslike manner about her, and thankfully, no hint of fangirl adoration or recognition at all, really. He knew that she knew who he was, but he still vastly preferred it when people didn't bring it up. Taking another deep breath, he braced himself.

"Okay, Mark. Oh, wow, you look really worried." She shook her head at him, smiling. "You're fine, Mark."

He grinned at her, ruefully. "I am?"

"Absolutely." Dr. Nguyen gave him another reassuring smile. Did he really look that freaked out? Apparently he did.

"Then what is going on? Why did I fail my vision screening? The more I think about it, the more that I realize that my vision has been going bad ever since I was on Hermes. Maybe even before that."

"You have presbyopia, Mark."

Presbyopia? "It sounds familiar," he managed to say. It called up a memory from when he was in college. Something his dad had said to him, when he'd first started wearing glasses. Did his dad have presbyopia? He was pretty sure that he was remembering correctly. "My dad has that, actually. I think so, anyway. Is it genetic?"

"No," she smiled, "it's just a normal, natural thing that happens as you age. The muscles around your lenses lose their elasticity, and make it more difficult to control your close-up focus."

"I'm going to need glasses, I take it?"

"Yep," she nodded, handing him a prescription. "There's other ways of dealing with it, as well. You could get laser surgery to create monocular vision, or any number of other options, really. But most of those options are going to require that you wear prescription lenses for at least six months while a baseline is established."

"Oh well," he quipped, "new glasses might be a good disguise."

She smiled. "Right here," she tapped the place on the page that said +2.00, "is the part of your prescription that indicates what strength your bifocals need to be. If you'd like to get some non-prescription reading glasses from the store, plus-twos are what you need."

"Wait. Did you just say that I need _bifocals_?" Those were for old people, right? Old people like his dad? His dad, who'd gotten bifocals when he was... exactly Mark's current age.

Shit.

x x x

He'd fallen asleep again. Pathetic, he told himself. It was, he checked the time, half-past eleven, and the credits were rolling on the movie that he and Sophia had been watching together. He'd missed the last thirty minutes, at least.

"Good morning," she teased him, snaking her arm around his waist and leaning in for a kiss.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, "Did I miss anything important?"

"Rosebud was the sled." He loved it when she sassed him.

"Funny." He couldn't resist pulling her close and then poking her in the ribs. She responded to that by twining both arms around his neck, kissing him again. Deeply. Purposefully. Wow. This was clearly turning into a major makeout session; and even after six months together, he still felt like he could never get enough skin contact with her. He couldn't help smiling a little at the feel of her under his hands. The texture of her skin still got his heart to pounding, as his hands chased up and down her back, glorying in the satiny touch.

She leaned back, then, arching her neck as she shucked off the t-shirt she'd changed into after work, throwing it unceremoniously onto the floor. Mark felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her. She was hot; holy shit. He must be the luckiest guy on Earth. _With a girlfriend sixteen years too young for him_.

He pulled back, abruptly. What the hell was he doing, here? Self-doubt was creeping in, as he tried to picture a future for them, together. In twenty years, Sophia would still be young and beautiful and vital, and he'd be... Oh, God. What if this had been a huge mistake?

"Mark?" She had gently placed one hand on the side of his face. "Where'd you go, just then?"

Her eyes were locked on his, with that soft, sweet, smile that he loved. She brushed her thumb across his mouth and then kissed him again, softly. Testing him. Checking to make sure he was still into this; into her.

He found that indeed, he was.


	2. In which Melissa Lewis gets her revenge

It was mid-morning. He'd never gone home last night. After Friday movie night had devolved into that rather enthusiastic interlude; he'd fallen asleep, exhausted. The morning-after awkwardness had abated, for the most part, but it still felt just a little strange waking up over here. Sophia worked early mornings during the week, so spending the weekends together at her apartment, or his, had become their standard operating procedures. He got up and headed for the shower.

Sophia was already awake, bustling around in the kitchen. Cooking something. There was the sound of clinking plates and coffee mugs; he heard someone else's voice, suddenly. Did she have company?

Apparently, Marissa Martinez and-Mark blinked-Helena Vogel, were having breakfast here this morning. What in the hell? Maybe his memory was starting to go now, too. He decided not to give them the satisfaction of acting surprised or asking why they were there, or what the hell Helena was doing here without Alex.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" Marissa greeted him, far too cheerily, giving him a once-over, nudging Helena. They giggled.

Women. He rolled his eyes, and pulled out a chair.

Sophia came up behind him, and leaned across, to put a cup of coffee and a plate in front of him, sneaking a brief kiss on his unshaven jaw.

He felt like it was feeding time at the zoo, as Helena and Marissa watched him, smiling. Marissa, in particular, had a smugly satisfied expression that made him feel more than a little stabby.

"Is he always this grumpy in the mornings?" Helena asked Sophia as though he were invisible, with a polite smile. Great. Now Helena was throwing him shade, too. He blamed Marissa's bad influence.

"He's not grumpy. He's _tired_." Marissa teased. Her eyes darted in the direction of the bedroom door, and then to Sophia. She gave him a knowing smirk.

Not going to dignify that with a response, he told himself firmly. Do not feed the trolls. He sipped his coffee.

"Where's Alex?" He finally couldn't resist asking Helena.

"On a later flight." Helena replied cryptically. These women were driving him insane.

Sophia swooped in to refill his coffee. "You going to be ready to go, in a few minutes?"

"Sure." He had no idea where in hell's half acre they might be going, but whatever. He put his shoes on. "Who's driving?"

"Should we take two cars?" Sophia asked.

Marissa considered this for a minute.

"Yeah, the guys will probably want to go do their thing, after."

There was a knock at the door.

"Oh, that must be Melissa," Sophia went to answer the door. Sure enough, Lewis greeted them all, looking oddly casual in jeans and a white sweater. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to calling her Melissa.

"Morning, Commander," he grinned at her sardonically, giving her a exaggerated crisp salute.

"Watney." She deadpanned back.

Oh shit.  Suddenly he knew where they were going.

x x x


	3. Go on, I'll hold your monkey for you.

Mark had never held a baby before in his life, and he almost demurred when Chris, the proud papa, declared that it was his turn to hold the newborn baby girl. Before he could say anything, it was too late.

"Here you go, Uncle Mark," he said, as he gently placed the warm little bundle in Mark's arms. He awkwardly tried to copy Beck's cradle hold as best as he could.

He looked down at the baby girl, with her small red face, snugly swaddled in the hospital blankets. She was sound asleep, with her tiny hands clenched into fists like a miniature prize-fighter. She had a bossy little face.

"Ha, she looks like you," he said to Chris, as he studied the tiny features.

"She's got Beth's eyes, though." Beck had a decidedly goofy tone; he was obviously way off the deep end about his daughter.

Mark nodded. He repositioned the baby a little bit, so that her head was in the crook of his arm. She stirred a little, waving her tiny fists and working her little mouth open and closed a few times. He patted her on the back, a little gingerly at first, and then wrapped his other arm behind her, as she slept on. Baby Beck was a snuggler, it seemed.

"Aw, look... she likes Uncle Mark." Beck, seemingly convinced that Mark wasn't about to drop the baby on her head, stepped back and collapsed in the chair across from him. He looked absolutely exhausted.

"What have you been doing to yourself, man?" he mocked Chris.

"I know, I haven't slept in over," he checked the time, "forty-eight hours now. I'm so beat."

"Better not let Beth hear you say that." Mark quipped.

"No kidding." Beck leaned his head back, closing his eyes. "You okay with her, there?"

"Yep. Got your back, bro. Get a quick nap." Beck was asleep almost before he'd finished saying it.

Experimentally, he unwrapped one of the baby's fists. Long, tapered fingers, like Beth, and tiny wrists, like Chris. He smiled. She wrapped her hand around his pinky finger, clutching it tightly. Aw, geez. His heart melted a little more. The room was quiet and peaceful, except for Beck's heavy breathing.

"You're gonna make sure Dad never gets a good night's sleep ever again, right, baby girl?" he whispered to her. She snorted, an adorable, delicate baby snort. He grinned. He went back to patting her on the back, as she slept on.

He took a few pictures and sent them on to Oaiea.

 _Please congratulate Dr. Beck and Miss Johanssen on my behalf_.

 _Will do_ , he replied. Knowing that he probably wouldn't get a straight answer, he asked, _are the newborns on your planet as cute as this one_? He smirked. There was about a six-minute lapse between answers, before Oaiea finally replied.

 _No wish to be rude, but yes. Far cuter_.

 _I'll tell Chris and Beth you said so_. _Kidding_. He smiled. A few minutes later, Oaiea sent him a picture, of what he had to assume was a newborn from her planet. It was the ugliest creature he'd ever seen.

 _That's pretty cute, I have to admit,_ he lied shamelessly, _Relative of yours_? Holy hell, that thing looked strange. Oversized milky blue eyes, set in a wrinkled white face, no nose or chin to speak of, with a fuzzy tuft of white hair on top.

 _It is me, shortly after my birth_. Oaiea replied, six minutes later.

"Yep, that's why they call me a Peacemaker." he confided in Baby Beck, who was still sleeping peacefully.

x x x


	4. Don't come crying

"I just love those new glasses, honey," his mom greeted him, enthusiastically, "They make you look just like Dad did when he was your age."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement, Mom," he laughed, hugging her, as his dad mugged, making a mock-insulted face at him, "But thank you, anyway."

It was Wednesday evening, and his parents had made the rare trek from their suburban Chicago hideaway, to pay him a pre-Thanksgiving visit. This was their first visit to DC since they'd been summoned here two years ago for yet another funeral for their wayward astronaut son. They had re-adjusted admirably, really. His mom had developed a penchant for trotting out "two funerals" as a sort of trump card, if an argument wasn't going her way, though. He supposed she was entitled.

He invited them in, and showed them around the sparsely-furnished apartment. His dad wandered into the kitchen to make some coffee, while his mom gave him another hug.

"You look so much better, honey." She squeezed his arm. "Tell me about how you've been doing."

"Oh, well. You know." He grinned at them. "Keeping up with my physical therapy. Working with NASA, setting up their new department. Teaching impressionable young astronauts how to blow themselves up with hydrazine."

"You know what I meant," she frowned at him, " _How_ are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Much better."

"Two funerals, Mark."

"Okay, okay! I'm doing a lot better. I'm only about five kilos from my target weight. The psychologist says I'm doing well. My latest bone density scan was better than expected. My feet have callouses again. Anything else you'd like the details on?" He shook his head, smiling at them. It was good to see them again, even if his mom did tend towards being a worrywart.

His dad cleared his throat, "Actually, _I'd_ like to hear the details on-"

"Richard." A note of warning was in his mom's voice.

"Oh, fine." His dad glowered. He paused to glare at Lynn. "Great coffee," he offered, sourly, as a non-sequitur.

Mark grinned at the two of them. They acted like the proverbial old married couple. He wondered what it was, exactly, that his dad wanted details on, but his mom was unwilling to discuss. He assumed it was either alien-related or the fact that he was dating the President's daughter. They'd never met Sophia.

"Actually, son, any chance we could tune in so I could watch college football?"

Mark tossed him the remote.

"How are the rest of the Ares 3 crew?" asked his mom. "And how is your little goddaughter?"

"Valentina? Oh, she's great. Almost six weeks old now. Pictures?" he pulled out his phone. "Everyone else is doing great, too. Except for Beth and Chris, they're both pretty tired. Val doesn't let them get much sleep."

His mom chuckled at that, as she pored over the rather excessive amount of pictures Mark had taken.

"Will any of them be there, tomorrow?" she asked.

"No, all of them have their own family things to do. Rick and his little boy will probably be over here on Friday, though, if you want to say 'hi' to them then. And Chris and Beth are going to drop by with Val."

"Pencil us in." quipped his mom.

"Should we go out tonight for dinner, you think? Or I could order take-out, instead?" He wasn't sure he felt like wrangling with Thanksgiving traffic. Or dealing with photographers. Or trying to pry his dad away from college football, for that matter.

"Pizza?" his mom suggested.

"Mom. No. It's DC, they don't have pizza here." Chicago-style pizza, anyway. The only kind that mattered.

"Oh. Right. Chinese, then."

He nodded in agreement.

x x x

Things were pretty quiet after dinner, as Mark and his mom sat in the kitchen. He thought that she seemed to be debating whether or not to bring something up. She fidgeted and shook her head slightly. She looked like she was walking on eggshells.

"Mom, was there something you wanted to talk about?" he asked her in a slightly amused tone.

"No," she wavered, "Well, yes." she paused, "but I'm not sure if it's my place..." she trailed off. "You're a grown man, and you don't answer to me, not in a long time now." She smiled at him ruefully.

"True. I guess you'd better just butt out, then." he answered sardonically.

"Two funerals, Mark." she fired back.

"Jesus. Fine. What?" he relented, rolling his eyes at her dramatically. He smiled at her, but this did not sound like anything good.

"Your dad and I are just a little..." she paused again, looking uncomfortable, "concerned, I guess."

Now he was starting to get an idea of where she was going with this. Ugh.

"Concerned about what, exactly?"

"Well, it's that young woman you're seeing. We haven't asked you about it before, because we figured it was none of our business. But now it's been going on for quite a while, and we're being asked to have Thanksgiving dinner with her family..." she trailed off. Was there a note of disapproval in her voice? He couldn't tell.

"What would you like to know, exactly?" His voice sounded tight and hard, even to his ears; he felt like he was being put on the defensive here. He already had his doubts, damn it. Why was she bringing this up?

"It's just that," she paused for a moment, looking apologetically at him, "at the start, it seemed like something you were doing for the sake of public perception, maybe. It seemed like something that had been 'arranged'."

He looked at her, evenly. "Was there a question in there, somewhere?" He was beginning to feel unreasonably pissed off.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Mark. This can't be something that's never occurred to you before. That girl is at least fifteen years younger than you. Are things," she stopped for a moment, looking at him again, "are things serious? Are you planning to..." she trailed off.

"I don't know." He shook his head, looking down. "I'm not sure how to answer that."

"You don't _know_?" She shook her head at him, unbelieving. "Mark. I'd like to think that I haven't raised a son that would take advantage-"

He pushed his chair back, angrily.

"Calm down. I'm sorry. I said that the wrong way." She shook her head, apologetically. "I'm sorry. Truly." She laid her hand on top of his, and patted it.

They sat in silence for several long minutes.

Finally, he spoke. "I know, it doesn't make sense. I'm not even sure why she wants to be with me." He paused for a time, thinking. "And I know what I want. I just don't know if it's even possible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby Beck's name, explained: 
> 
> 1\. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valentina_Tereshkova  
> (first woman in space. Known for saying she'd happily take a one-way trip to Mars.)  
> 2\. They found out they were expecting on Valentine's Day.   
> 3\. Stranger in a Strange Land (Valentine Michael Smith, raised by Martians)   
> 4\. They did NOT name her after the Vehicular Airlock / VAL :-)


	5. Or else you'll face the consequences

He felt sort of like a tour guide, as his parents trailed after him through the North Portico. The White House was full of people today; the annual turkey pardoning tended to draw a crowd. He didn't particularly care to be photographed today, so he'd ducked past the red velvet rope, as two of the Uniformed Division guys waved him on through.

It was still two hours until the dinner was scheduled to start, and he tried to think where to take his parents to wait it out.

"Dad, you want to go bowling?" His mom didn't look too thrilled, but she followed them towards the basement stairs anyway.

As it turned out, he wasn't the only one with that idea. Sophia's uncle Gerald, greeted them with his friendly West Virginian twang. Mark had met Gerald and his family on Election Night, a few weeks ago. Introductions were made, a loaner bowling ball was located for Richard; Mark grinned to see his dad becoming fast friends with the President's brother. It was a bromance in the making, as they discussed the merits of their favorite football teams.

That just left his mom.

"Mom? Anything you'd like to see? We've still got time to kill."

His mom thought for a minute. "I've always wanted to see the Rose Garden," she replied, "but I guess it's the wrong time of year for that."

"We can still go look at it," he replied, "even if the roses are dormant, there's still plenty for a couple of plant nerds like us." He grinned at her.

x x x

They'd made the rounds of the garden twice by now, playing an old favorite game of theirs; Name That Plant. Once upon a time, she'd been the master and Mark the student, but the shoe was on the other foot today.

"How should I know?" she huffed, "what freaking _kind_ of magnolia tree that is? It's not like it has any leaves." She scowled up at him, from the wrought-iron bench.

"You should have seen it in the spring," he replied, " _Saucer_ magnolia." She rolled her eyes, as he sat down next to her.

"In the spring, you'll have been home for a year." She patted his arm. "It's been really nice, you know. Being your mom again."

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long." He sighed. "You know, back on Mars, when I was rescued, I wanted to stay an extra day, and use some rocks to spell out in Morse code, that I was on my way home to you." She looked at him, surprised.

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know, exactly. I guess I wasn't really sure I'd make it. Didn't know how long it would take, if I did. Didn't want to get your hopes up for nothing, or worry the hell out of you and Dad, when you couldn't do anything. Wasn't sure what the world would think of my ride home. Or if anyone would even believe me in the first place. Hindsight, though... I wish I had tried."

"It's okay." She hugged him. "You did the best you could, with what you had available. You've always been that way." She paused. "You know, I never completely believed you were dead. I always held out a little hope. Call it mother's intuition, if you want."

"Really?"

"Really. It bothered your dad, and the rest of the family, when I would say so, though; so I stopped talking about it, a couple of months after Iris 2 missed. But I always thought there was a chance."

He laughed, "That was very optimistic of you."

She was quiet for a moment.

"Mark, there has _never_ been a time that you haven't risen above my wildest expectations."

He hugged her.

"That's a really nice thing to say. Thank you."

They sat for a while longer.

"But Mark," she continued, "if you're just leading that poor girl on, I'm going to have to take you over my knee." She smirked at him, making a spanking gesture.

"Oh my God, Mom. Just stop. Please." He was doubled over, laughing.

"I'm only partially kidding," she reminded him, laughing.

"I am not 'leading her on'." Mark paused for a long time. "You know, I wake up every morning, thinking that today might be the day that _she_ wakes up and starts wondering why she's wasting her time on a smartass like me." He sighed. "She's not just beautiful, you know?" He paused for a moment, "She is, of course. But she's smart, and funny, and kind. She's the whole package, Mom. She's been so good to me."

"Oh, honey." She patted his arm again. "I'm so glad to hear you say that."

"I can't imagine life without her." Mark was quiet for a moment. "And yet, I can't quite convince myself that she'd ever..." he trailed off.

"You haven't talked about any of this with her?"

"No. I know, I know..." she was shaking her head at him in disbelief, "I just don't want to screw it up. I'm just so _bad_ at talking to her about this stuff."

She was taking off her gloves, looking in her purse for something.

"This is yours, you know." She passed him a small velvet cube.

He knew what it was, but he opened the ring box anyway. It was his grandmother's platinum eternity band. Elegant and understated. He felt like his heart was in his throat.

"Grandma wanted you to have it, for when you met the right girl. I've been saving it for you, just in case." She smiled at him.

He was too overcome to say anything for awhile.

"It was a really long wait, you know." She poked him in the side.

x x x


	6. That chair, it just bit me.

_Do they have Thanksgiving on your planet? What kind of pie is the most popular?_ He grinned. It was Friday morning, and definitely time to play Stump the Alien.

Nine minutes later, an answer chimed back.

_Sorry, there is no pie._

_Wait. You DO have Thanksgiving?_ He double-tapped to send, and then got up and headed to the shower. Sophia had left his apartment at an ungodly early hour to go Black Friday shopping with Marissa and, dear God, his mother. He felt twitchy just imagining it. They would probably return this evening either hating one another, or best friends, and he wasn't sure which scenario scared him more.

_No. Gullible human._

He rolled his eyes. Score one for the alien. There was a knock at the door.

"Hey guys." He gave a high-five to Rick's young son, David, who made a beeline for the TV. "Hey Martinez, help me think of something ridiculous to ask Oaiea."

Rick grinned. "Ask her if she were a tree, what kind would she be?"

"Ha, good one." He tapped it out and sent it.

"So, how did 'Meet the Parents' go?"

"About how you'd expect." He grinned.

"Right, totally normal, introducing the folks to the new girlfriend. At the White House." Rick shook his head, in amusement.

"Yea, well, not everyone gets to meet the in-laws when they're fifteen." Mark laughed.

"Ha, yea, that was awkward. Wait. Did you just say in-laws?" Rick raised an eyebrow at Mark.

"Bad figure of speech?" Mark hedged. Shit.

"Uh-huh." Rick gave him a dubious look. "I had a feeling about you two. So the mighty Watney has been chopped down, at last. Gonna be floating down the river with the rest of us logs."

Mark rolled his eyes.

His computer chimed.

_I am not sure how to answer that question. I defer to your botany expertise._

"Ha! Score one for the humans!" Mark grinned.

x x x

Black Friday shopping might have gained a reputation as a somewhat declassee pastime, but Sophia looked forward to it every year. It had always been something of a family tradition for her, growing up, even though it had been a few years now since her mom had been able to join her. Marissa really enjoyed it as well, and lived far away from her own family. They'd become fast friends over the last year. And so far, her impulsive decision to invite Lynn as well seemed to be working out. It was a nice change-up, from shopping alone, or worse, shopping online. It helped her get into the holiday spirit.

She glanced over her shoulder, to make sure that she was staying in range of the security detail. So far, none of them had been recognized. It was making for an enjoyable outing. Marissa was always fun to spend time with, and she was in fine form this morning, acting as somewhat of a buffer between the newly-introduced Sophia and Lynn.

Marissa laughed and pointed as they passed the Hermès shop. "Think I should get Rick a tie?"

"It'd be kind of an expensive joke." laughed Sophia. Something had caught her eye, in the back of the store.

"A joke that he would only wear once a year!" Marissa grinned.

"They do have nice ties, though. My dad has a few. Actually, let's stop in there for a minute." Sophia turned, as Lynn and Marissa followed her.

Exactly Mark's size, too. It was a black leather jacket; the leather was burnished perfection, supple and smooth.

"What do you think?" she asked Lynn.

"It's gorgeous." Lynn stroked the buttery-soft leather sleeve. "Mark would _love_ it."

Marissa waved a cologne sample at them. "Smell this!" she grinned.

Sophia sniffed obediently, closing her eyes. "It smells like... a spicy gin and tonic! That smells amazing!" She laughed.

"Check out the name!" Marissa turned the card over.

"Voyage d'Hermès?" Lynn read, as the three of them smiled.

"Perfect!" the three of them said in unison.

The next commander of the Ares Program was going to be doing his job, smelling really good.

x x x

"Honestly, Marissa. I can't believe you were alright with Rick signing up to go to Mars again. It's an awfully long time for you and David to be without him." Lynn shook her head. They'd stopped to get some lunch before heading home.

"That's true," Marissa replied, "But this is important to Rick. He had barely gotten to Mars before the mission was scrubbed, and then losing Mark..." she trailed off. "It just ruined the whole experience for him."

"So he wants a re-do?" Sophia laughed.

"It's just something he needs to do." Marissa shrugged. "I'll be here for him when he gets back. It's not like whatever the next thing he moves on to is bound to be easier, in any case. We're talking about Rick Martinez here, after all." She grinned at them.

"Good point." Lynn smiled. She knew all about over-achievers.

"What about you, Sophia?" Marissa asked, "How much longer do you have?"

"A little over a year." Sophia replied.

"Done with the Air Force after that? Or thirsty for more?" She smirked.

Sophia was quiet for a moment. Lynn's eyes were alert, this was clearly something she'd been wondering, herself. "I, um..." she paused for a moment, "I don't know, really. Probably not." She blushed.

"Uh-huh," Marissa teased her.

"Honestly, it's hard for me to imagine _what_ I'll be doing in a year. Dad's prospects for getting re-elected weren't looking all that great a year ago. I had always seen myself moving back to Morgantown. Maybe going into teaching. Now I'm not really sure."

"Now you want to stay in DC." There was a note of amusement in Marissa's voice. "I wonder why?" she deadpanned.

Lynn chuckled.

"Oh, sure!" Sophia grinned, "You guys go ahead and laugh." There was a tap on her shoulder, and she spun around. It was one of the agents, giving her the hand signal that she had been recognized. Time to leave, before a crowd started gathering. She sighed. "Looks like it's time for us to head back."

x x x

"Good job, Valya!" Beck cheered on his baby girl, who had just managed to roll herself over. She flipped onto her back, looking stunned for a moment. Then the lower lip quivered. Mark swooped in and scooped her up before she had a chance to get going.

Beth smirked. "Uncle Mark to the rescue. You sure you don't mind watching her?"

"Let's just get going, before he changes his mind." Chris grinned.

"We'll be fine, don't worry." Mark patted Val, who had taken up her usual spot of residence, cuddled into the crook of his arm. Beth looked unconvinced, but started towards the door.

"You're _sure_ you'll be okay?"

"Babysitting for two hours so you guys can have dinner together? It doesn't really rank very high on the list of difficult things I've done, honestly." Mark rolled his eyes. "I'm her godfather, after all. Least I can do." He took Valya's hand and waved it at Beth. "Bye-bye!"

The door closed behind them.

"Thought they'd never leave," he said to Val. "You want to roll around some more?" He set her carefully down on the blanket again.

Bad decision. Valya started crying immediately.

"Okay, no rolling around. Not a fan of that myself. How about we walk around for awhile?" He scooped her up again and patted her back, as she wailed in his ear.

Fifteen minutes later, he was seriously re-thinking this babysitting gig.

And that was before the suspicious smell appeared.

Shit. Literally, figuratively; it was all the same. It's just fertilizer, he reminded himself.

No. No, the contents of _that_ diaper would kill any plant life within twenty meters.

Still. He needed some practice at this. If he was seriously going to propose to Sophia, who was still well within her childbearing years, he needed to make sure she didn't have that reason, at least, to say no. Sure, he might be on the older side for a first-time dad candidate, but now that he'd had some time to get his head around the concept, he rather liked the idea.

Fresh and clean again, little Val calmed down considerably. In fact, she looked downright sleepy.

Which was how it came to be that an hour later, when Beth and Chris returned, they opened the door to find Mark napping on the sofa, with Val cuddled in the crook of his arm, fast asleep as well.

x x x


	7. Game on

Hard to believe, but he actually felt pretty comfortable in this big pile of rocks that Sophia's parents called home. And it was strange to remember that he'd once thought Perry Roberts was an idiot. Now, after knowing him for nearly a year, he had to admit that not only was Perry a pretty smart guy, but he genuinely liked the man. It was Christmas Eve, and there hadn't been even a moment's thought that Mark would be anywhere else but with Sophia and her family.

Madison and Sophia had already gone to bed, but he and Perry were lingering over a late-night game of Scrabble. Perry was a crafty bastard at it, too, and Mark had just lost a challenge to DOGGO, which had turned out to actually be a word.

"What the hell is a doggo?" Mark asked, as Perry lined up another ridiculous word.

"It's what draft-dodgers do," joked Perry, as he laid down CWM.

"Okay, that is just not a word. Challenge."

"You sure about that?" Perry wagged his eyebrows at Mark.

"Oh my God. That is the fakest word I've ever seen." Perry just smirked at him. "Seriously?" He groaned. "Fine, no challenge. But you're going to need to use that thing in a sentence. Or you're going to lose major Scrabble-cred, man."

"Thirty-four points for me. And you're lucky you didn't fall down a cwm when you were on Mars." He pronounced it 'koom'.

"Good game." Mark conceded his defeat. "Nerd." he added, sotto voce.

"Loser puts up the board." Perry gloated, as he hummed the melody to _Hail to the Chief_.

"Alright, alright!" Mark laughed.

"You about ready to turn in?"

"Actually." Mark began, slowly. It was now or never. "I'd kind of like your advice on something."

Perry swirled his glass of scotch, thoughtfully, ice cubes clinking. "I'm always happy to help." he said, closing his eyes for a moment.

"I'm planning to propose to Sophia."

Perry raised his eyebrows and took a drink. And then another. He stared at Mark for what felt like an hour. Finally he sighed, and said, "I guess I knew this was coming."

Mark nodded. They sat in silence for a long time.

"Mark." He paused, looking conflicted. "Can I be frank?"

Uh-oh. "Please."

"I have some concerns. And of course, it's not my decision to make. Sophia can decide for herself, what she wants to do. She always has, the good lord knows." Perry smiled; his daughter had never been one to go where she was guided. Quite the opposite. "But I don't think I'd be doing a good job as her father, if I didn't point out some potential problems, here."

Mark nodded again.

"It's been my experience," started Perry, "that relationships that get started during wartime, or other times when a person feels like they're in danger... Well, those relationships don't tend to do as well when it's peacetime. You and Sophia; you kind of got thrown together, and under other circumstances, I don't think the two of you would have ever taken a second glance at one another."

Mark couldn't really argue with that. It was disheartening to hear someone spell it out, though. He nodded.

"And then, Sophia has always been what I like to call, one of the fixers. Always wanting to help. A fine quality, really. But I've got to wonder how much of her sudden interest in you was due to that desire to be needed. To have someone who needed taking care of. Rather than the usual reasons that two young people wind up getting together. She's always been drawn to the wounded birds."

He flinched at that. This was like a nightmare. He wanted to argue with the man, and yet found himself agreeing with him.

"Wow." Mark sighed. "You raise some good points."

"I'm hoping that you two manage to work things out," Perry smiled at him, "because I think you're a hell of a good man. Heck, you already feel like family, to me. And I've never known Sophia to be happier." He grinned at Mark. "But it wouldn't be smart for you two to haul off for the sunset together without taking inventory, here. My advice would be to take it slowly, make sure you've worked these things out with her."

"Thank you." Mark stood up. "I'll think about what you've said."

Perry clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man."

x x x

"Merry Christmas," he whispered to Sophia, as he turned back the covers and slid in next to her.

"Is it after midnight?" she mumbled, still mostly asleep.

"Shh. Go back to sleep." He kissed the top of her head, as she snuggled next to him, putting her head on his chest, and doing just that. He laid awake for a long time, thinking. Listening to her breathe. Thinking about the hard truths that Perry had spoken to him. There was something about what he'd said, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He thought back to that day, after the state dinner, in the car, when Sophia had said something similar to him. Something about how he never would have asked her out, if Elaine hadn't forced him to. That was bullshit then, and bullshit now. Elaine hadn't goaded him at all; he'd undertaken asking Sophia out all on his own. He'd planned to. He'd chosen to. And she'd chosen to say yes. He hadn't made a big deal of it that day in the car. But he'd known then that it was bullshit. Elaine might have facilitated things a bit, but she'd hardly given him the idea in the first place.

And yes, he'd stepped up the timeline a bit, but he'd _had_ a timeline. He'd always planned to pursue. Ever since he'd seen how kind and sweet she was, that first night, when they'd taken Oaiea sightseeing. By the end of the evening, he'd just felt like he was _home_. How could he have forgotten that?

She'd never shown the slightest bit of doubt, as he thought back on it. She was brave as fuck, to get involved with someone like him. Why had he doubted? Was it all in his head? Some weird psychological complex? What the hell was he scared of? _Being alone. Being the one left behind._ Okay. Now we're getting somewhere, he thought. What a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And what the hell. Perry thought Sophia was a _fixer_?

Then what the fuck was _he_? Fixing shit was his job! Fixing things was who he was; it was his very definition. He and Sophia made the perfect team. And he wasn't going to go one more minute without fixing this.

He brushed Sophia's hair aside and kissed her. He whispered, "Can you wake up for a minute?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm completely in love with you. Just wanted to let you know."

Her eyes opened, she looked at him, amused.

"I love you, too." She kissed him. "Any other brilliant observations?"

"I've got a big one, actually."

"Oh?" She looked at him through her lashes, her mouth quirked into a smile.

"Yep." He tightened his arms around her, feeling his heart pounding away like crazy.

"Care to share?"

"I want to marry you." His voice was husky.

"Okay." Her eyes were wide awake now. "I, um... wow." She looked at him again. "Are you serious?"

"Serious as the heart attack you're about to give me." His heart thudded in his chest. "Was that a yes?"

"Yes."

"Yes?!"

She laughed, and nodded again, eyes bright with unshed tears.

He kissed her, then. No more holding back; it felt like the last of the gravity slipping away.


	8. Dancing with the stars

"Oh my God, Elaine!" scolded Sophia, "We're not getting married for ages! At least a year! You're such a micromanager." She and Mark laughed at the expression on her face.

Clearly, Elaine Kohn had figured that a New Year's Eve party was the perfect time and place to approach them about wedding plans, a mere one week after their engagement.

"A year is hardly any time at all, you two. It'll be here before you know it." Elaine persisted.

"Don't worry about it, we'll just go to Vegas." Mark joked, just to see the horrified look on her face.

Elaine didn't disappoint. She looked like someone had drop-kicked a puppy. The woman loved to plan an event, it couldn't be denied.

"You going to make it 'til midnight this time, champ?" Martinez and his wife had joined their group, as Elaine wandered off to mingle. Rick smirked at him, referencing the state dinner when exhaustion and an unexpectedly low tolerance for alcohol had ended Mark's evening in embarrassingly early fashion.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Hey. I'm not the one who smells like a gin and tonic, here." He took an exaggerated sniff of Rick's new cologne.

"Totally putting this stuff in my PPK!" Rick laughed. "At least people won't be lighting my personal items on fire, this time." He mock-glared at Mark, and then dramatically made the sign of the cross and glanced upwards, as though seeking absolution, as Marissa shook her head at him, laughing.

Mark gave him a dubious look, "I don't know, Rick. That stuff smells pretty flammable. It'd be awfully tempting."

"Let's not forget that the bottle looks exactly like a Zippo lighter," chimed in Sophia, "NASA is _never_ going to let you off the ground with that!" They laughed.

x x x

Sophia nudged Marissa and gestured to the dance floor, where an uncomfortable-looking Mark was getting a dance lesson from her mother.

"Oh my," giggled Marissa, "Maybe you'd better go rescue him."

"Maybe I'd better start filming, you mean?" Sophia joked.

"I like the way you think, girlfriend." Marissa shook her head, amused.

"He might as well get used to it," Sophia smiled, "Mom loves ballroom dancing."

"Is that what that's supposed to be?" Marissa giggled, "I really couldn't tell."

They watched, fascinated, as Madison attempted to show Mark how to feather-step.

"Oh, _that's_ not going to end well," Marissa chuckled. It was an excellent prediction; Madison had to pull back hard on Mark's arms to stop him from losing his balance and falling. Mark was laughing, though. He appeared to be enjoying himself. Sophia couldn't help smiling. He'd warmed up to her parents surprisingly well, against all odds.

"What did Mark think of his jacket?" Marissa changed the subject.

"Oh, you know he loved it." Sophia grinned. "He said it was 'botanist cool'."

Rick returned to the table, balancing an armload of drinks.

"Marissa was just saying that she wants my mom to teach _you,_ next." Sophia teased, as Marissa shook her head in denial, laughing. Rick glanced over his shoulder.

"And what makes you think I don't already know?" He grinned. "Catholic school girls and quinceañeras. That's all I'm saying." He gave them a rather unholy satisfied smirk, as they both burst into laughter.

x x x

Mark thought that he had not felt this painfully conspicuous since the morning after the state dinner, as his future mother-in-law coached him through the basic sequence, in full view of at least a hundred people. Slow, slow, quick, quick, was on auto-loop through his mind, as Madison happily chattered away at him about carriage and rhythm and he tried not to look down at his feet. It wasn't as awful as he'd originally thought; actually, it was kind of fun.

At least it wasn't disco music, he mused. At any rate, the music was over, and he made his way back over to Sophia and the Martinezes.

"Don't even start," he warned Rick, who had clearly been having some laughs at his expense. He grinned at them. "Walk with me?" he held out a hand to Sophia, who pushed back her chair.

"Needed some fresh air?" she asked him, once they were out of the room.

"I'm fine," he answered. "A little fresh air never hurt anyone, though. Except for that time in Airlock One."

She rolled her eyes at him, as she followed him out into the Rose Garden, where the air was indeed, fresh. And chilly.

Mark shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and offered it to her, as they sat on one of the wrought-iron benches.

"Sorry about my mother," she smiled, "She can be a little overbearing."

"It was kind of fun, actually."

"I guess you might as well get some practice," she smiled. "I guess you'll be glad you did, in a year or so."

"The thought had occurred to me," he said, dryly. He checked the time. "It's ten minutes 'til midnight. Let's send Oaiea a message together." With the time-drag, she would see it right at midnight, if they hurried.

"Okay," Sophia smiled, as Mark pulled up the menu to record a message. "Tell me when to start."

"Go." Mark grinned at her.

"Um, okay. Hi! Happy New Years, Oaiea, way out there in space. We miss you. We're here at the White House, Mark and I, and um, did Mark tell you we're going to get married? Next year. We wish you could be here for the wedding! You're going to be my long-distance bridesmaid, okay? Okay, Mark, you go."

"Hey, Traveler. Hope the ship and you are doing okay. Don't pick up any hitchhikers alright? That's just dangerous. And yes, we're getting married. Right here in this Rose Garden. We'll take lots of pictures for you, okay? But right now? I get to start a new year, Oaiea, thanks to you. I get to have a future. And it's amazing. Happy New Years." He and Sophia waved, as he double-tapped to send.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if anyone even wants to read this! If you're finding it even remotely interesting, please leave some comments; I could use some encouragement. =)


End file.
